Precious Things
by fayegrove
Summary: Belle thought she would be satisfied with her new roles of wife and mother, so why was she so unhappy? AU prompt "Belle doing dishes and Gold drying them" from Tumblr.


All was silent in the nursery where Belle sat, tightly cradling her daughter in her arms. The only sound was that of the occasional, rhythmic creaking of wood and the loud, steady breathing of her baby. Using her feet she was gently moving the gliding chair that Eli had bought her as a coming-home-from-the-hospital gift when Helena was born. Back and forth, back and forth Belle rocked as she caressed the faint wisps of dark brown hair on her daughter's head, her heart bursting with a love she could never have known possible. The tiny child in her arms had become her life, and this fact both pleased and saddened her.

Belle loved her daughter, but she loved her husband, too; the husband that she found herself seeing less and less of since giving birth to Helena three months prior. Eli had made it clear that his current case would take up most of his time until the trial was over, but his reassurances that said trial was nearing completion did little to ease the loneliness Belle found herself now drowning in. Even when this one had ended, another would pop up in its stead. Eli Gold was an incredibly sought-after defense attorney, having an uncanny knack for finding loopholes in the law that freed even the most doomed of accused clients.

This lucrative enterprise did mean that Belle and Helena lived comfortable lives. Belle not only had no need to work but was encouraged by Eli to pamper herself as often as she wished. Not that she ever truly took him up on this offer, preferring to be frugal rather than frivolous. Belle couldn't even remember the last time she'd gotten a haircut or bought herself a new shirt. Still, she could not deny that she had been sorely tempted to indulge on a trip to the local spa a time or two since giving birth. Eli would tell her to hire a babysitter and just go if she'd ever brought it up to him, but Belle had found herself unable to hire anyone to watch Helena without her present in the house. It wasn't that she didn't trust anyone—she just hated to miss any of the little moments with her newborn that seemed so incredibly vital to her, especially since Eli had missed so many of them. Belle had to be the one to tell him about their daughter's small triumphs and watch the mingled joy and sadness play on his face.

Lights appeared and shone across Belle's line of vision, splayed on the opposite wall for a few seconds before she heard the familiar sound of her husband's Cadillac engine as he pulled into the driveway. Belle's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the nightstand to her right: it read just after ten. Outside a car door slammed shut and she heard the beeping that meant Eli had set his car alarm. After a few more seconds the front door opened and closed quietly, only audible from the upstairs nursery since Belle was listening intently for the sounds.

Then she distinctly heard the soft, uneven footfalls climbing the stairs. Belle's heart leapt into her throat when Eli came around the corner of the doorway, the light in the hallway leaving only his outline visible.

"Sssh," Belle raised a finger to her lips and then motioned to the child asleep in her arms. Eli limped towards them and rested his cane on the ground before kneeling down in front of them both. He kissed Helena on her forehead and then Belle on the lips. "She fell asleep about thirty minutes ago."

"Let me take her," Eli murmured, sliding his hands underneath the precious cargo and gently removing their daughter from Belle's arms. The sudden lack of weight brought into stark focus how weak her arms had become and they fell limply to her sides, aching.

Belle watched her husband slowly adjust the bundle of pink blankets in his arms, smiling at Helena with such tenderness that she couldn't bring herself to ruin his joy by bringing up her own anxieties. Instead she slid out of the gliding chair and stretched deliberately, finding that her whole body had become sore from sitting so long in the same position.

"I'm going to go clean up the kitchen," Belle whispered. Eli looked up at her and Belle found a smile for him, albeit an oddly strained one, and then she squeezed his shoulder. She walked out of the nursery, down the stairs and into the kitchen, her thoughts preoccupied with a new worry. She'd been waiting all day to see her husband, so why was she now avoiding him?

There sat the plates and glasses from earlier that evening—Belle had completely forgotten to do the dishes before putting Helena to sleep. Sighing, she gathered them up in her arms with the balancing skill she had acquired since entering motherhood and set them into the spacious sink that had already filled up during the day. She turned on the hot water and poured a generous amount of soap over the china, breathing in deeply the aroma of her favorite, apple scented suds.

"What are you doing?"

Belle started, one hand going to her heart in alarm as she whipped around to face her husband. He was leaning against the island counter, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm doing the dishes, what does it look like? And don't scare me like that!"

Eli grinned mischievously and let his arms fall as he approached her. Belle turned back towards the sink, using the long-necked brush to move around the dishes and allow the soap to foam up. She grinned faintly when a pair of hands snaked their way around her waist and came to rest on her belly. Her husband pressed himself against her back and rested his chin on her shoulder, no doubt watching her hands as they worked to pre-scrub the soaking dishes.

"We do have a dishwasher, you know," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

Eyes rolling, Belle turned her head so she could look at her husband. He was a slender man and his face was as thin and angular as the rest of his body, but his eyes were such a deep, warm shade of brown that they softened his features. When he smiled a single, golden tooth glinted in the light. He was without doubt an attractive man, and his Armani suit added to the subtle elegance he carried with him wherever he went. Belle felt particularly out of place standing in his arms, wearing nothing but her favorite old pair of jeans and a faded tee shirt, her hair up in a hastily-made bun.

"I prefer doing them by hand. I can make sure they are scrubbed clean. Plus it takes up more time to do dishes this way."

"But isn't the point of the dishwasher that you can do them more efficiently, thus freeing up more time for leisurely pursuits?"

Belle did not answer him. She had turned off the water and pulled out the wash rag, setting to scrubbing a plate with as much force as she could. Eli had meant to say nothing hurtful, she knew, but his words still rankled her. What leisure time was there when she was raising a newborn, virtually alone?

Eli seemed to notice that Belle's demeanor had changed. His arms had slipped out from around her waist and he moved so that he was facing her directly, though Belle kept her gaze firmly upon the now-clean plate she was continuing to scrub relentlessly. "What' wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not mad," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"I think that dinner plate would disagree." Silence persisted for a long minute before Belle finally caved in and lifted her eyes to meet her husband's. His eyes moved between her own, probing Belle's thoughts in a way she had never been able to prevent. One of her husband's other knacks was to read people clearly, even if they were skilled liars—which Belle was nowhere near close to being. His brows knitted as he gazed on her face, and she could see that his concern was mixed with confusion.

"What's wrong?" he repeated, pulling a clean towel from the drawer underneath the sink and then taking the freshly-scrubbed plate from Belle's hands. He proceeded to dry it thoroughly and then place it back in the cabinet where it belonged. Eli never truly forced an issue with Belle—he always waited patiently for her to open up. When she still couldn't bring herself to answer him, he smoothly changed tact.

"Was someone over today?" he asked conversationally as he dried a cup and placed it in the cupboard.

"Ruby and Ashley, and Ashley's daughter Alexandra. They came over for dinner."

"Ashley?" Eli asked, surprised. "I thought you didn't like Ashley?"

"It's not that I don't like her," Belle muttered, suddenly embarrassed. "I didn't understand her before, I guess. Now we have a lot in common."

"Understand?" There was a hint of knowing in her husband's voice and Belle felt his gaze boring into the side of her head. "What do you mean, dear?"

Steeling herself, Belle kept her eyes downcast while she answered. "Her fiancée works all the time, too. She practically raises their daughter without him and has only her friends to help out. Not that she doesn't love Sean," she added quickly, "but she misses him and is lonely, and afraid of raising their daughter alone."

"I see," Eli murmured, taking the pot from Belle's hands and beginning to rub it dry. "What would Ashley have Sean do?"

Biting her lip, Belle struggled to maintain composure. She knew Eli was not fooled by her using Ashley as a smoke screen but she found it easier to use the analogy to express her fears without the guilt of complaining for her own sake. "She would rather him come home at dinner time, like other couples," she finally admitted, scrubbing absent-mindedly at a bit of baked chicken on the pan in her hands. "And have weekends off, too. So he can spend time with her and their daughter."

Eli said nothing, choosing instead to gaze at Belle for a long moment. He then set down the bowl he had been drying and turned to face her, removing the pan and sponge from her own hands and gently gripping her shoulders so she would turn to face him. "I'm sorry, Belle. I've been so caught up in this trial that time has become a blur. I didn't mean to leave you alone with Helena."

"It's not just that," Belle murmured, forcing herself to keep her eyes locked on her husband's. "I love Helena and don't mind taking care of her. That's why I've chosen to be a housewife. But I do miss us as a family, and Eli, you are missing all of these moments in her life. She knows who I am now, but I don't see that same spark of recognition when you hold her. I'm afraid she'll grow up with a father too busy for her." She choked up, her eyes watering but still refusing to look away in her desperation for her husband to understand.

There were tears in Eli's own eyes, Belle suddenly realized with a jolt. She had so rarely seen her husband cry that the sight of them brought a measure of stillness to her own anxiety. Belle reached her soapy hands out to grip his, and he squeezed them back, his thin lips trembling.

"I will have my assistant help out more with the case," he abruptly said with a voice much steadier than his expression. "He has been anxious to shoulder more responsibility so I will leave it to him to take over once five o'clock rolls around. I promise I will be home earlier, Belle." He lifted one of their joined hands and pressed them to her face, then leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Really?" Belle gasped, her heart soaring. Only then did she realize how resolutely she had convinced herself that Eli would make excuses for his work and that things would never change. The pessimism of the last few months evaporating, Belle found herself actually bobbing on her heels in excitement. "Will you be home on weekends?"

"Maybe not just yet…" Belle's face fell slightly and Eli laughed faintly. "The trial is nearly over but we are all still living and breathing for that courtroom until it is. I will try to come home on Sundays, though."

Recognizing that he was doing what he could to appease her misery, Belle smiled warmly at him. "I suppose I could compromise. For now," she added threateningly, which made Eli truly laugh.

"So intimidating, my little housewife." Belle snatched the wet wash rag draped across the sink and swatted his arm with it. "Not the Armani!" he moaned with mock anguish before snatching his own towel, rolling it up and smacking her across the bottom with it.

Belle cried out in surprise and joy before she found herself launching into her husband's arms. Too long had they gone without these tiny, precious things that had brought them so much joy, and the effect on them both was astounding. They clung to each other for a long time, Eli rocking Belle in his arms much as she had rocked Helena, his lips pressing to her forehead, cheeks, and nose.

"Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, nimbly disentangling their embrace so that he could reach into the breast of his tuxedo coat. When he removed his hand there was a small, white envelope in it. "Open it," he said softly.

Taking the envelope from him, her eyes locked on his with good-humored suspicion, Belle opened the flap and pulled out the two slips of paper that were inside. _Round-trip tickets to France_, she read with a shock.

"Are… Are you serious?" she spluttered as the blood rushed to her face with excitement.

"Completely," he smiled, relishing the thrill that was taking over Belle. "You did mention once that your dream vacation would be in France."

"But—but Helena—"

"—is taken care of. Granny has already agreed to watch her while we're gone. This vacation is just for us, dearie."

In an instant Belle was in Eli's arms again, laughing and then kissing him with a passion she'd feared had been fading between them. They had not touched so tenderly since just after the birth of their daughter and Belle knew she couldn't be the only one who had been aching for want of intimacy. Eli took her hand and led her towards the stairs, looking back at her for a moment with a devious grin.

"It's a good thing Helena sleeps like a rock."

Belle blushed as she followed her husband up the stairs to their bedroom.


End file.
